It IS Just Me, Isn’t It?

File this story under: wildly obscure things I probably shouldn’t blog about—that NO ONE else would blog about, but which are unique to only me; as no one else seems to struggle with basic daily tasks like I do—which makes me who I am today and in order to understand me, you have to understand this.

If there’s one thing at my job that bothers me, it’s that when the students are back, there’s nary an available restroom to be found. There are five bathrooms I know of in my immediate vicinity, and like as not, they’ll all be occupied when I decide that the third cup of coffee has put me over the edge. One will have students lining out the door, and one will have a single student crying hysterically after a test, and two will have staff members racing each other/ cutting each other off for the pleasure of being there first, and then there’s the last one. The forgotten one. The one that’s desperately in need of a remodel, but again, everyone has forgotten it exists. I invariably go to this one each day, but since it’s the furthest from me, I will check all of the rest (sometimes I luck out) before finally making my way there.

Be afraid. Very afraid. Photo Source

You see, this bathroom and I have a history. It’s nothing scary or gross or inappropriate. It just seems that the sensor in the lone sink in this room of respite seems to KNOW ME and every time I walk into the room, it decides to register. Then the faucet bursts on with such ferocity that water will spray seven feet across the room and hit me even though I’m sidling up to the opposite wall.

Yes, that’s right. I sneak into the forgotten restroom each day, hugging the wall, praying not to be accosted by the sink. And I just wrote over three hundred words about a faucet censor in a bathroom at work which seems to know when I’m in the room and then goes on the attack. I’ve never heard anyone else complain of this phenomenon, and I’m almost certain it’s because no one else remembers that this bathroom exists, but how does one approach their coworkers and asks them to go into the above mentioned forgotten bathroom and see if they get sprayed as well? I have a feeling that if I brought up this topic at work, people would just stare.

It’s much easier to tell people that my mouth missed the water fountain, again. When they ask why my shirt is wet. Again. And yes, that’s totally a plausible scenario as well.

Today, however, as I attempted to hug the wall AND crouch to avoid the spray, I began to think of all the little things we do or are that we just don’t discuss. I don't think I've even mentioned this story to my husband. Without this story would you ever wonder, if you met, me why I greet each sink with a wary look? Would it even register? It truly is the countless, tiny idiosyncrasies we each have that, when added together, make us the person we are. We should pay closer attention to the details.

What odd, clumsy, or disconcerting things do you not often (if ever) mention to others about yourself? How do they make you who you are? And do you think the faucet at work is in cahoots with the boys’ shower?